


Piety

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Translation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6120747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonya had always felt herself to be indebted to the Rostov family for taking her in, and Natasha had always liked to play with other people's feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piety

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A TRANSLATION.  
> The original work was written by **Helkarel** and can be found [HERE](https://ficbook.net/readfic/760354)
> 
> Warning for Sonya having some serious self-esteem issues.

Is there a feeling more profound, intimate and innocent than sisterly love? Sonya, who had never known affection from either her prematurely deceased parents or the stern countess, who understood all too well the danger of raising pretty cousins alongside one’s adolescent sons, found in Natasha the comfort and meaning that is crucial for a person to have, that love which is the true meaning of life. 

Natasha. Thin and not very pretty, she was so lively, so full of bright, spicy, true life, that Sonya was sometimes even scared to touch her friend – what if that touch makes her burst into a flock of fiery birds? They were completely different and, perhaps, this was what bound them together more tightly than anything else. Natasha infused laugher, feeling and absolute chaos into the life surrounding her. She was not afraid to shine and warm and sometimes burn. She played as a child would: artlessly and, sometimes, just as cruelly. And Sonya, sensible, compassionate, kind Sonya, tried to somehow clean up the messes her friend made and minimize, as much as possible, the consequences and punishments. 

“I don’t understand why they have become so close,” the countess complained. Her dislike for Sonya, in part a consequence of jealousy, as her own children paid too much attention to the girl, caused the countess to look for any negative traits that her niece might have. Naturally, these were first of all faults that the countess had herself. Jealousy, however, was completely foreign to Sonya. Shy and quiet, she was far more stunned by the idea that someone might love her selflessly and passionately, and therefore did not think she had the right to be jealous, demand, or even expect, anything. There were absolutely wonderful moments in this too – when Natasha or Nikolai would suddenly embrace her, or present her with a small gift, or share with her their childish, but very important, secrets. In these blessed moments, Sonya wanted to cry from the grandiose and heart-wrenching love she felt for them. It was unthinkable that she could possibly demand anything or be dissatisfied when that could mean the loss of these precious moments. 

Nikolai was a knight, just like the ones who fought for the princess in the books Sonya borrowed from her strict and pious governess. Sometimes, when Sonya read these novels, which brimmed with balls, passionate love confessions and the heroine’s tears, she would cry quietly, imagining herself and Nikolai as the main characters. Oh how wonderful that would be. Could she possibly even dream of such a thing? However, even in these naïve dreams, Sonya always saw Natasha alongside herself and Nikolenka – Natasha, her best and most adored friend. Truly, how could she imagine a world without Natasha? Without her ringing laughter and constant jokes, her hands nimbly winding around Sonya’s neck, her burning lips against Sonya’s ear as she whispers of the latest gossip. How?

Sonya could not say when their friendship became something more. Perhaps, even the young Countess Rostov knew not what she was doing, simply continuing to play with the world around her as she always did. Only, their embraces became tighter and more frequent. Their childish kisses were suddenly full of some new, wrong and wicked, but dizzyingly fiery happiness – a happiness that made Sonya want to cry. They slept together in one bed more often than they did apart. Oh no, there was nothing in all this that could evoke condemnation or aversion – innocent, childish games, familiar to everyone and almost saintly in their artlessness and naivety… Definitely, where Natasha was concerned. But could Sonya say the same of herself with any certainty? 

She did not know. She did not know and suffered, quietly and without complaint, as she always had in the years she’d lived with the Rostovs. What was there to complain about, anyway? Could she ask Natasha to stop this simultaneously sweet and painful game? Natasha would stop, immediate and without being asked twice. She would apologize, perhaps even cry on her friend’s shoulder, mortally wounded by the thought that she had dared to cause Sonya pain. Yes, for Natasha, even pain accidentally caused to those she loved was like a knife to the heart. Only after that, the nights would become completely empty and cold, like the greyest of all grey Novembers. Not just the nights, but Sonya’s entire, homely life. 

And then came those, who wanted to take from Sonya her simple happiness. 

Andrei Bolkonsky was far more of a storybook knight than Nikolenka, who was kind and brave, but very simple. Looking at him, even Sonya understood that he was worthy of all he desired, even Natasha. Wonderful, true, fiery, lively Natasha. Far more worthy than an unremarkable and constantly out-of-place girl. Rich, honorable, well known in society, a man of the highest morals, intelligent and fine, Bolkonsky was, of course, a wonderful match for Natasha, much better than the simple and unremarkable Boris. And Natasha, who had then been playing a child – direct and naïve – had managed to make him fall for her, without even meaning to. It was always like that, but Natasha could hardly stop her games any more than she could stop breathing. And who could not fall for this not very pretty but charmingly youthful girl? 

After the spectacular Prince Bolkonsky proposed to Natasha, Sonya, having embraced her friend and reticently congratulated her, managed to spend the rest of the evening in feigned cheerfulness, holding back the sobs that threatened to tear her apart. Only at night, having run off to the icons, did she allow herself to cry bitterly, as though trying to wash away the hell of dishonorable love and hatred that poisoned her heart with her tears. 

_This is wrong, so wrong_ , Sonya thought, _I owe them so much, how dare I demand anything more? How nasty I am. Oh, if she only knew how nasty I am, she would not even want to look at me. My angel, Natasha, my love, forgive me that I cannot be happy for you. I hope you will be happy with him, because he… Oh, God… He is an honest and honorable man, he is far more deserving of you than… Oh, my angel, forgive me!_  
  
“Sonya, my own heart, you’re crying?” Natasha’s alarmed voice made Sonya shudder from terror and press her hands even more against her face, as though trying to protect herself, hide, disappear – anything to not allow Natasha, who was so good at reading people, to understand the true reason for her friend’s tears. Because if she finds out, understands… 

“Sonechka, don’t cry, darling, or I will cry too.” Natasha often did just that, but now she was in no hurry to fulfill her promise, even her voice was somehow different – much calmer and somehow…superior.  
Her face stained with tears, Sonya looked up timorously, afraid to see indifference and detachment, but was, instead, completely enraptured by the angelic love than emanated from Natasha.

“Oh, Sonechka, I love you so much!” she said, and quickly embraced her cousin, planting a light kiss on her forehead. A completely platonic kiss, but Sonya, weakened and practically blinded by pain, stilled like a frightened, stray puppy being petted for the first time in its life. She wants to feel that affection again, but is also scared that a single movement could result in being pushed away and abandoned, in the loss of such desired touch. 

“I know why you are crying, darling,” Natasha continued, and Sonya cringed inwardly, expecting either a blow or the most coveted words. “But don’t think like that – you will be happy too. Nikolenka has been saying for years that he will marry you! Oh, Sonechka, if you only knew what happiness it is to fall in love for real! When there’s a wedding and you’re together your entire lives. Can you imagine – your entire lives! I now feel as though I have wings and I am free and can fly across the sky, but I am still his now, only his. Do you understand, darling? And it is real happiness, not pretend, do you see?” 

Pretend. The word cut deeply into Sonya’s already bleeding soul. She suddenly became angry and wanted to hit Natasha, who was too happy, too lively, too loving. Hit her hard, so that that happy smile would fade away and tears would fall from her eyes, so she would never again dare to laugh at what lay between them, and… And lose her, for even those crumbs of love that Natasha gave her cousin were completely undeserved. How could one be unsatisfied with such a gift? How could a sore-pitted beggar decry the elegant hand that offered him a piece of bread? Even if it offered a stone, the important thing was that an elegant, slender hand from another world had touched him. 

“I’m so happy for you, Natasha,” Sonya said, her voice dead and foreign. She embraced her cousin and held her as tightly as she could.


End file.
